Clockwork Soldiers
by catOTPeeta
Summary: AU/Standalone. In District 13, the children are referred to as soldiers. They're nothing more than living, breathing weapons. War is coming, and somehow Peeta Mellark and his friend Cato got caught up in the thick of it.


**Clockwork Soldiers**

* * *

He'd been here for 26 weeks, 4 days, 6 hours, 43 minutes and 9 seconds. Just like every morning, the imprint of his timetable was tattooed onto his arm, inked out across the pale white skin. Skin that had formerly been speckled with freckles from its overexposure to the sun. He hadn't seen the sun in almost six months.

When they arrived, him and his parents, they had thought that they were finally safe. They thought this life was salvation, that this was the only way they could be free. Now, Peeta scoffed at the very idea of freedom. Just look at his arm. Every second of his life mapped out for him, every minute of every hour of every day. There was no escape from it.

Breakfast. That was first on the list of things he was expected to do and expected to be grateful for today. Once upon a time, in a District far away from this, breakfast had meant stale bread and luke-warm water, crusty cakes and hardened sugar frosting. Now breakfast meant scraps of whatever was available, distributed so evenly and so precisely that you never got a single extra bite to eat. Heaven forbid you should ever have a crumb more than what was necessary for survival. That simply wouldn't do.

Glancing around his compartment, he noted that it was completely empty. This wasn't exactly unusual. His parents frequently had earlier starts than he did, ate at different meal times than he did and worked completely different shifts than he did. It seemed as though they existed in a world that ran an hour or two ahead of the one he inhabited.

Peeta suspected the District did this on purpose, always ensured that they kept family time to the minimum 30 minutes of time they allocated for it on their tight schedules. Keep them apart and they can't rebel. Not that they were planning on it anyway.

Slipping into his boring uniform and quickly combing his hair into place, Peeta left the compartment. By this time, his stomach was grumbling loudly. He knew he only had ten minutes or so to make it to breakfast before he missed his slot. Here in Thirteen, you learn pretty quickly that punctuality is everything. If you miss your slot, you don't eat. With that in mind, he broke into a light jog.

Distracted, he didn't see the boy coming the other way until he'd bashed right into him, nearly knocking the guy right off his feet. Blushing, he began to stammer an apology.

"Whoa there," the boy said, effectively cutting him off. He smiled at Peeta a little lopsidedly, steadying him by gripping onto his elbows tightly. "Slow down, Soldier. What's the big rush? Surely you aren't running late again?"

"Not late exactly," Peeta replied with a slight frown. "I've actually got a few minutes spare, but you know it's always better to be early around here."

The other boy shrugged, reaching out to ruffle Peeta's hair. "Whatever you say, Soldier. You'd better go. Have a nice breakfast, and no giving your food away to those bratty little kids again, you hear me? You know that I'll be the first to know if you do." He waited until Peeta nodded grudgingly before continuing. "Good. See you in Drill."

* * *

Peeta had known Cato for 23 weeks, 2 days, 16 hours and 58 seconds. When they met, it had been his third week in Thirteen, back when he was still sitting alone in meal times. The other kids didn't really want to know him. Of course they didn't. No one wanted to be the first to talk to the weirdo new kid. At least, the majority of them didn't. Then one day the blonde boy had settled his tray down next to Peeta's and slipped quietly into the seat beside him. He hadn't said anything, just slurped noisily on his broth as if this was an every day occurrence.

When he looked up and caught Peeta staring at him incredulously, he simply quirked an eyebrow back. "What?" he had asked around a mouthful of the soup, and Peeta had shrugged and said 'nothing'.

That was it. That was how he made friends with Cato.

He still didn't know exactly how long the other boy had been there, but he knew for certain that his stay had been longer than Peeta's. Cato was from District 2 and, unlike Peeta, he'd escaped from his District alone. He'd run away from his family rather than with them.

When he asked why, Cato told him that they wanted to make him fight in the Games. Peeta couldn't understand that. Who would want their son to volunteer to die?

After that first day, they sat together every mealtime that they could. The rest of the kids from Thirteen still ostracized the both of them, but it didn't seem quite so lonely when you were a pair of outcasts. Part of a plural, not just a singular.

They didn't see each other all that much during the day to begin with, only occasionally during Drill. Cato had been ahead of Peeta, in the more advanced classes because he was both older and he'd been in the District for longer. They were both fairly evenly matched in strength, though, and for what Peeta lacked in age and height he more than made up for in muscle. Soon enough he was fast-tracked into the advanced training group with Cato.

Suddenly the two of them were thrown together nearly every hour of every day, constantly in each other's company. Peeta learned little things about the other boy, like how he got a rush out of running too fast and how he flushed a perfect shade of strawberry red when he did so.

They trained, and as they trained they found themselves talking and bickering, laughing and joking, fighting and growing increasingly comfortable with one another. After a while, Cato stopped calling Peeta by his real name, instead dubbing him 'Soldier'. For some reason, he seemed to find this amusing. Peeta hated it.

In Thirteen, all the adults referred to the kids as soldiers, as if they were nothing more than living and breathing weapons. They were always being trained and prepared for a battle, told they had to fight the Capitol. They had to end the oppression over the other Twelve Districts. It was their duty, according to President Coin, an ugly woman with a sour, pinched up face and hollowed out cheeks.

Peeta thought the War wasn't a war worth fighting. Why end the Capitol's reign just to replace it with yet another extremist totalitarian state? To him, it didn't seem worth the hassle.

Before, back when he was still a Baker in District 12, he could at least pretend to have a little freedom. Sure, once a year there was the enormous threat that he could be picked to enter The Annual Hunger Games and slaughtered, but the rest of the time life wasn't so bad. It wasn't as bad as this.

He was sure that back then he had been defined by more than just a crappy uniform and a tattooed set of chores that were inked into his arm. Back then, he'd had aspirations. Now he wasn't even sure he could remember what those were.

* * *

It had been 2 hours, 13 minutes and 6 seconds since he'd bumped into Cato in the corridor on the way to breakfast. Peeta was beginning to feel anxious. For one thing, the other boy was never late for drill. Not once, in all of the weeks and hours and minutes that he'd known him had Cato turned up late for anything. For another, if he were otherwise engaged, surely he'd have warned Peeta when he saw him earlier?

No. Something had to be wrong.

His suspicions were only confirmed when a tight-lipped official marched into their training session just a few minutes later.

"Soldier Mellark?" they addressed to no one in particular, and he stood to attention instantly, his body forming the salute he'd been taught perfectly. Her eyes landed on him, giving him a quick once-over before she gave a short, sharp nod. "Very good. Come with me."

His attention snapped to the schedule on his arm instantly, scanning the rows of numbers and times in confusion, trying to figure out what was going on. This hadn't been planned for him today, and it wasn't on his timetable. He knew better than to ask questions, though, so he just nodded and followed her out of the room in silence.

Climbing into one of the elevators with her, he couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable as she navigated their way to their destination with a blank expression, barely acknowledging that he was even there. He scratched his neck awkwardly and counted the seconds in between each jump and jolt of the carriage changing directions. Left for thirteen, upwards for seven, sharp right turn then straight on, forwards for twenty.

When the doors slid open again, his mind was buzzing with numbers. It was 4 minutes, 39 seconds since he'd left the rest of the training group. The nameless official ushered him out of the cramped compartment, into another narrow hallway. She walked quickly, like a bullet, and he followed close at her heels.

"We are approaching President Coin's headquarters," she snapped suddenly. Her voice was nasal, high pitched and piercing in an almost whistle-like manner. Peeta accidentally flinched at the sound of it. "You will not speak until you are told to and you will follow any orders you are given in there, or else you will be forced to face the consequences. Do you understand?"

Peeta nodded back dumbly as his guide tapped in a complex-looking security code into a machine and the electronic door whirred open to reveal the woman in question. Coin was perching behind a large wooden desk, hands folded across it with her signature scowl already in place. Cato sat at her side, a small grin blossoming across his features when he caught sight of his friend.

Peeta felt himself relax at this, reassured by the fact that his only friend in this damn place hadn't been killed or worse. If Cato was here and Cato was smiling, he was sure that everything was going to be fine.

"Soldier Mellark," the President addressed him, and he stood to attention quickly once again, ignoring the amused smirk that was playing about the corners of his best friend's lips. "Please, do take a seat." She gestured towards the chair across the table, and Peeta dutifully sat down in it. Coin smiled at this display of obedience, revealing her yellowing teeth.

"Now, I'm sure you're wondering why you are here." She paused here, waiting for him to nod an affirmative before continuing. "You are aware that a war will soon be upon us, are you not, Soldier Mellark?" Again, she paused and he nodded. "That is why I have called you here. Our strongest soldier is your friend Cato here, and we have asked him to lead a section of our forces, but he insisted he could only do it on one condition. Do you know what that is?"

Peeta shook his head at this, shooting Cato a quizzical look. He was already growing tired of Coin's rhetorical questions (ones that somehow seemed to require answers, despite the fact this defeated the purpose of 'rhetorical'), figuring that if she wouldn't tell him the answers, his friend would. But Cato simply shot a warning look back to him, silently indicating that Peeta should keep his attention trained on the President.

Turning back to her, Peeta smiled weakly, unsure of whether or not he was supposed to say something here. Completely oblivious to his inner dilemma, Coin powered on with her obviously pre-prepared speech.

"Apparently, he will only accept his duties if you are given the exact same role as he is in our army." Her tone was patronizing and a little condescending. At her side, it seemed the other boy was struggling to bite back a snappy retort to her words. "He also said that he needs you to stay with him at all times. You see, he claims that you are the only other soldier of equal strength and caliber as him, and that he cannot work without you. Do you agree with that, Soldier Mellark?"

He stared at her, dumbfounded, not quite able to process what she'd just told him until Cato delivered a swift kick to his shins under the desk. "What the he—I mean, uh. Yes? Yes. I do agree with all of that. I totally and completely agree."

"Well, that's very good to hear." Contrary to her words, the president's voice remained on an unimpressed monotone, the kind you'd expect someone to use if they were telling you that your pet dog had just died. "In that case, I will make the necessary adaptations to both of your timetables and your living arrangements."

Cato rose to his feet, saluting the President. "Thank you, ma'am. It's been a pleasure speaking to you today." His tone dripped with sarcasm, but Coin didn't seem to notice.

"Yes, yes." She waved a hand out in front of her dismissively as she reached towards a stack of paperwork on her desk. "Go back to your compartments and pack your things. You'll be moved before the end of today."

* * *

It had been just 26 weeks, 4 days, 18 hours 52 minutes and 3 seconds since the Mellark family had moved into their small room together and made it their home. It was still almost completely bare, really just four blank walls, two of which were lined with bunk beds. There were four beds in total; one for each of them, Peeta, his father and his mother, and one spare should one of his brothers ever chose to join their parents in the rebellion.

Peeta hoped to all of the gods he'd never believed in that they didn't.

Saying goodbye when he moved his stuff out of their shared compartment was easier than he expected it to be. He'd barely seen his parents recently, what with his father working in the kitchens all day and his mother helping out in the hospital ward as often as she could. Peeta may have been only sixteen, but he'd done a whole hell of a lot of growing up since he got here. He didn't need to depend on anyone else anymore.

His new room, shared with Cato, was two floors above their old ones. Now they were next to all of the important people so that they'd be closer at hand in case of an emergency. The room itself wasn't much bigger, but a small desk had replaced the second set of bunks, giving the room a more homely feel. It came with a set of two chairs and a small stack of paper resting atop it. It wasn't much, but it was still more than Peeta had ever expected he'd get here.

"So, what do you think?" Cato asked, grinning lazily from where he half-dangled upside down from the top bunk, his t-shirt riding up to expose his toned stomach. "This is pretty awesome, isn't it? You're my new roomie. I always wanted one of those."

Peeta rolled his eyes, balling up a spare sock and throwing it at the other boy, hitting him square in the face. Cato jumped reflexively, trying to evade the shot but just landing in a heap of tangled limbs on the floor. Peeta laughed. "I bet if Coin could see you know, she wouldn't think you're all that impressive."

"Whatever. You're just jealous because I'm more amazing than you are." Curling his hand into a fist, he pressed it to his lips and gave himself a mock-fanfare. "All hail the almighty Cato, strongest of all District 13's soldiers. Hail him, the saviour of all mankind."

The boy was still spread out on his back on the floor as he called this out, his head twisted up at a weird angle from his strange landing. He looked ridiculous, and Peeta told him so.

"I don't care," Cato shrugged back easily, folding his arms beneath his head. "At least I'm comfortable down here. Maybe you should join me." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, grinning. "Seriously, there's plenty of room for two."

Peeta scoffed. "No, I think I'll pass thank you." With this, he climbed into the bottom bunk, settling himself in for the night. "I'm gonna try and get some sleep. Night, Cato."

"Yeah, that's a good plan," Cato agreed easily, inwardly cursing the other boy's sensible nature. "Goodnight, roomie. I'll see you tomorrow."

At least from up there in his own bed, Peeta couldn't see the disappointed expression that crossed his best friend's face. If he had, maybe he wouldn't have drifted off into a deep and dreamless sleep so easily. Sighing, Cato stretched out his stiffening limbs and then settled back down on the floor tonight, curling up on his side so that he could see the outline of the other boy's profile as he slept.

For him, sleep wasn't so easy to slip into, but eventually he found himself lulled to sleep by the soft, constant sound of Peeta's steady breathing beside him. When he closed his eyes, he could pretend that the distance between them was nonexistent.

* * *

Peeta woke up bleary-eyed and disorientated, unsure of whether or not he'd dreamt the events of the previous day. The answer to this came in the form of a groan of pain from the floor. Peeking over the edge of his bed, he watched as Cato struggled to sit upright with all of his joints clicking loudly in protest. It was the first time in 13 weeks, 19 days, 2 hours, 53 minutes and 15 seconds that he hadn't woken up completely alone.

"You slept on the floor." It came out as a statement, not a question. "Are you crazy? Why the hell would you sleep on the floor when you have a perfectly good bed just a few meters away from you?"

"Mmph. Leave me alone, 's too early. You can lecture me for my stupidity later." Cato lifted a hand and rubbed at his eyes, yawning loudly as he rolled himself onto his back, spread eagled across the middle of the floor. "What are we doing today?"

"I dunno." Peeta hauled himself out of bed, dodging around Cato's body as he padded to the other side of the room and stretched out his arm to receive his temporary schedule. "Well, assuming we're together all day, we have breakfast, then some sort of special training meeting, lunch, drill, then training, training and more training. What's new?"

"Don't be like that." Cato wiggled himself across the floor towards his friend, and then used the boy's legs to help hoist himself back onto his feet again. "It's not so bad, you know." He let one of his arms settle around Peeta's waist as he said this, hooking his chin over the boy's shoulder as he extended his other arm out in order to get his schedule.

It was a weird sort of embrace, his front pressed up against Peeta's back, arms encircling the boy loosely, effectively trapping him. When he squirmed a little, uncomfortable, Cato just tugged him in closer. Grabbing at Peeta's right arm, he aligned their pristine timetables and scanned over them quickly, checking that they were exactly the same then nodding happily when he realized that they were.

"C'mon, let's go eat." At this, he slackened his grip on the other boy enough to allow him to step away. As he did so, Peeta sent him a confused look over his shoulder. He looked just like a little lost deer, and Cato reached out to ruffle his hair affectionately. "I think you'd better get dressed, Soldier. We've got a big day ahead."

"Yeah," Peeta agreed. "Okay, that sounds good. I'll do that now."

He turned away from the other boy, quickly stripping away his pajamas in favour of pulling on his uniform. Cato leant on the wall behind him, shamelessly watching his every move, noting to himself every freckle or scratch, scrape, scar he spotted on Peeta's pale white skin.

"Hey, aren't you going to get changed too?" the boy asked suddenly, glancing back at his friend. Cato immediately averted his eyes, pretending to be fascinated by the cracks in the paint that lined the ceiling of their compartment. Oblivious as Peeta was, it seemed that he hadn't noticed the creepy staring, but Cato blushed nonetheless.

"Sure I am." Quickly tugging his soft, worn out t-shirt over his head, he reached for his own uniform. Like every morning, the material was rough and stiff against his skin. Pulling on his trousers and then his boots, he looked up to find Peeta watching him curiously, head tilted to the right in a confused manner. Cato grinned at him. "Enjoying the view?"

"What? N-no." Peeta shook his head sharply. "I just… I spaced out, I'm sorry. I wasn't… I mean, uh. Let's just go to breakfast, yeah?"

Biting back his smile, Cato nodded, making a point to take Peeta by the wrist as he led him out into the corridor. "I can walk by myself, you know," the boy mumbled petulantly as he did so. He made no further protests after the hand around his wrist shifted down a little to gently lace their fingers together, though.

It took all of Cato's self-restraint (and then some) to prevent himself from skipping happily down the hall as they walked.

* * *

Exhausted, the two sat side by side on Peeta's bed. It was approaching midnight, and neither of them could sleep, too tired to even shut their eyes and lose consciousness. It had been 9 weeks, 2 days, 12 hours, 4 minutes and 51 seconds since Coin had granted them their promotions. That accounted for a hell of a lot of training, their hours increasing more and more by the day as the time for war drew closer.

That night, Cato had made a tent of sorts by tucking his blanket under the mattress of the top bunk, allowing the material to drape down and cover the entrance to the other boy's bed like a curtain. Concealed behind it, the two of them sat close, Peeta leaning heavily against Cato's chest as the other boy ran a gentle hand through his hair.

"We're going to war soon." Peeta murmured sleepily, and the other boy chuckled.

"What a way to kill the mood, Mellark." Cato poked him gently in the ribs at this, and Peeta squirmed a little in a half-hearted attempt to get away.

Somehow he only ended up closer. Now he was almost sitting on his best friend's lap, not that said best friend was complaining or anything. Hell, of course he wasn't. It was moments like this that made Cato's life worth living, the quiet ones in the middle of the night where Peeta let his guard down just enough to let him slip past his defenses.

"I'm kind of scared, you know." His voice was soft, so quiet it was barely there. They'd never talked about this before. "Cato, I really don't want to die."

"I know that, Soldier. I know you don't." Letting his hand slip down from were it was playing with the hair at the nape of Peeta's neck, Cato began to rub soothing circles across the other boy's shoulders. "You're not going to die, though. You know that, right? I'm gonna look after you, and I wont let anything hurt you. You're gonna be fine."

The younger boy sighed. "You can't promise that. You can't. Anything could happen, Cato. You can't protect me from everything. They have bombs, for God's sa-"

"Shh." Pressing a hand against the other boy's mouth, Cato silenced his protests. "You've gotta stop thinking like that. I swear it, you're not going to die Peeta. I'm not going to let you. I promise you with everything I have, I'm not. You got that?"

"Yeah," Peeta whispered back, sounding only slightly reassured. "Yeah, I got it."

"Good." Dipping his head, Cato placed a feather-light kiss against the side of his neck. The other boy shivered under the ghost-like touch. Curled up like that, the younger boy tucked up carefully against the older boy's chest, hidden away by their makeshift tent, they slowly fell asleep together.

* * *

It had been 1 week, 5 days, 3 hours, 29 minutes and 18 seconds since the first time woke up beside one another, warmer and more comfortable than usual. Since then, it had become a common thing for Cato to sneak into the other boy's bunk in the darkness of the night. While Peeta had never explicitly invited him to do so, he never turned the other boy away either. Cato took that to be a good sign.

Each morning that they woke up a mess of tangled limbs, Peeta would roll out of bed and get changed into his uniform instantly, pretending that the night before had never happened. This never failed to amuse Cato, watching his friend struggle awkwardly to justify to himself a valid reason why they spent almost every night cuddling.

If he didn't know by now, the boy was even more of an idiot than Cato had originally thought. Stupid, oblivious Peeta.

During the day, neither boy acknowledged the shift in their bedtime routines. It was a taboo subject, and there was an unspoken rule between them ensuring the topic was never breached. Not in public. No one needed to know but the two of them.

They simply continued to train as usual, jogging, shooting, firing, planning, and running their soldiers through countless hours of drill as they attempted to train up their men for a war that would start in a matter of days. It was their duty to ensure the others made it out alive, and that was a duty that neither boy was taking lightly.

That day, hunched over a table scattered with plans and complex diagrams, Peeta, Cato and two other men discussing tactics. One half of the two, Boggs, gestured to one of the sheets of paper excitedly. "Yes, I think that's the only option. We're going to have to storm the Capitol by foot and fight our way to Snow's house."

"What?" Peeta snapped, annoyed. "No, we can't do that. Don't you know how much human wastage that plan will create? That would be like walking them out to their deaths, you know that hardly any of them will make it!"

Boggs rolled his eyes. "So naïve and innocent," he muttered. "You can't save those men. To gain anything, there has to be sacrifice, and we have no choice but to put the good of this world before the lives of a few men. That's the only way that we're going to be able to take the Capitol down."

Slamming his fist down on the desk, Peeta grit his teeth. "No, it isn't the only way. There are plenty of other plans on this table, like using airships to drop bombs or fly troops in." He gestured to the other papers wildly, cheeks flushing red with anger. "You know as well as I do that they don't need to go in on foot, so why are you making them?"

"It's the only way," the man beside Boggs replied, irritated. "We need to show the nation what we are willing to do to win this war. We need to show the Capitol just how strong we truly are. We can't do that hiding behind huge machines, can we?"

"Oh, so you just want some good footage for your stupid broadcasts? That's not sacrifice, that's slaughter!" Peeta spat back, disgusted. "Those are real people out there you're messing with, real people with real lives. Don't you understand that?"

"Peeta, I think you need to calm down." Cato spoke out suddenly, his tone warning. "As much as I hate to admit it, they do have a point. Think about it. A little sacrifice early on could be enough to save thousands of lives. If we show them how strong we are, they'll surrender quicker."

Furious, Peeta rounded on the other boy. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Cato?" he yelled, seizing a bunch of the boy's shirt and yanking him in close. "Can't you hear what you're saying? You're willing to march them to their deaths, are you? What if that was me? Would you be so willing if I was the one going out there to be killed?"

Placing soothing arms around his friend's shoulders, Cato looked directly eyes. "Of course I wouldn't. If it was you, I'd never let them, you know that." These words seemed to placate Peeta, his muscles relaxing as the tension drained out of his body.

Then he punched Cato square in the chin, hard.

Staggering backwards, the boy watched with wide eyes as the other grabbed the plans from the table and sprinted away. Boggs and the other man stared after him, confused and irritated.

"I'm so sorry, gentlemen, but you'll have to excuse me." Cato told them, hand coming up to massage his already aching jaw. He could taste coppery blood spilling out onto his tongue. "I'll talk him around, and we'll discuss these plans again tomorrow morning."

* * *

It wasn't hard to find Peeta because here in Thirteen, there weren't many places for him to escape to. This meant that he wound up back in his compartment just 14 minutes and 47 seconds after he'd punched his best friend in the face, hard. Unfortunately for him, his enraged thundering around the corridors before he decided to come back to the room meant that Cato had a head start on him.

Of course, the boy was already waiting there when Peeta flung the door open theatrically and stormed his way in, an ugly purple bruise already blossoming across the majority of the lower half of his face. Cato grinned at him, amused. "You never told me you have such a flair for the dramatics. I never had you down for a drama queen."

"What's your problem today?" the other boy replied, still angry, looking ready to deal his friend another punch at any given moment. "Why do you feel the need to start acting like this when we're about to go to war? I need you right now, goddamn it!"

"Peeta, please. Just calm down, okay?" Cato's voice was softer now, more sincere. "I can't help you when you're like this." He stepped forward cautiously, closing the tentative gap between them. "I'm not trying to upset you here, really I'm not. I'm just trying to fight this war so that we can win it as soon as possible. That's all I'm trying to do."

"So why do you have to be such a dick about it?" Peeta retorted. "You know I'm right, it's wrong for us to just let them do out there and die for noth-"

Suddenly Cato's lips were on his own, soft and warm, firm enough to stop his words in their tracks. At first Peeta tried to get away by twisting his head to the side, but the other boy had already cupped a strong hand under his chin, holding his face firmly in place as he kissed him. After a moment of struggling, Peeta just let himself relax into it, and he actually felt Cato's triumphant smile as it stretched up against his lips before he pulled away.

"Wait, what the fuck was that?" the boy spluttered, his eyes blown huge with confusion. He didn't sound angry anymore, just completely lost. "Did you just… did you just-"

"Kiss you? Yeah, I'm afraid so. As for 'what was that', I'd say what that was about a million years overdue." Cato shrugged casually, barely even trying to conceal the wide beam that spread its way across his face. "I couldn't help it, you're just so cute when you're angry,"

"Wait," Peeta replied, biting his lip in between his teeth. "I'm really confused. What are you talking about? Is this some sort of joke or something?"

Cato stared back at him, incredulous. "You seriously want to know what I'm talking about?" It sounded like a challenge, so Peeta nodded. "God, you are so fucking oblivious. Really, you are. How could you not have figured it out yet, stupid? I'm talking about what I've been trying to tell you since the day we met. I like you. I really fucking like you, Peeta. In fact, I'm actually sort of crazily in love with you."

They were still standing a bit too close together. Closer than best friends should. Close enough for Cato to watch the confusion in Peeta's eyes morph into comprehension as it finally finally dawned on him. Finally. He'd started to think it never would.

"Oh." The boy stared back at him, his pink mouth forming a perfect circle. Then he whacked his palm against Cato's chest, clearly irritated. "You idiot. Why would leave it right up until we're about to go to war to tell me that?"

The other boy laughed. "Trust me, it wasn't a lack of effort on my part. I've been trying to tell you for months, Peeta. Months. It's hardly my fault that you're so dense sometimes. I never factored that in to any of my plans."

"Plans?" Peeta asked, curious.

"Well, there was the 'sit with the hot new guy and wait for him to notice me' plan, and then there was the 'convince the trainers to move him to the advanced group so he has to spend all his time with me' plan, and then when that failed I tried the 'force Coin to move him into the same compartment as me' plan and the 'keep him warm in the night' plan and… Yeah." Cato was blushing by now. "Maybe I should have just gone with the I love you plan right from the start."

"Yeah, maybe you should've." Peeta smiled, leaning in to drop a chaste kiss to the boy's cheek. The other tilted his head, though, angling it so perfectly that his lips landed at the corner of Cato's mouth in an almost-kiss. Flushing, Peeta pulled away at once, clearing his throat nervously. "Actually, since we're on the topic of plans… You're not seriously going to let all of those poor and innocent men die, are you?"

Cato rolled his eyes affectionately. "You're doing that thing again, you know, the one where you completely kill the mood. There's not a romantic bone in your body, is there?" Peeta had the decency to look a little sheepish at his, and Cato laughed. "That doesn't matter, though. You're just lucky that I really fucking love you."

"I know I am." Then there was a pause, not quite a hesitation, before Peeta found the courage to speak again. "I just… You know. I'm pretty sure that I love you too." His voice cracked with nerves as he spoke, hands shaking. What sort of man is more afraid of love than he is of war? He couldn't help but wonder.

This time when Cato leaned in to kiss him, he didn't pull away. He was inexperienced, unsure of himself, and kind of scared, but that didn't matter anymore.

In that moment, Peeta stopped measuring distances in minutes and hours and seconds. He just stopped counting. Time seemed to pale into insignificance now. Instead, he'd count up in kisses and stolen moments, and in whispered promises of "I love you" and "forever."

* * *

**A/N: **Hello everyone! Last night, I couldn't sleep at all and then this happened. The idea just came to me and festered about until I wrote it down and got it out of my system. My original plan was to blow them both up at the end, but I'm (mostly) glad that I didn't. As always, I'd love love love to hear what you think of this so please leave a review if you can find the time and thank you for reading!


End file.
